


engrave your touch onto my skin

by lookoutlovers



Series: minute par minute [4]
Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Camping AU, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Lucas is oblivious as hell, M/M, One Shot, Prompt Fill, of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-11 12:44:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19928260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookoutlovers/pseuds/lookoutlovers
Summary: for the prompt: “here, take my sweater.”





	engrave your touch onto my skin

**Author's Note:**

> for the anon who asked for number 62 from [this prompt list](https://look-out-lovers.tumblr.com/post/186265790247/angstfluff-prompt-list-mvps)
> 
> this was not meant to be this!!! long, but i am incapable of writing anything under 3k, clearly. heh whoopsies. but i hope u enjoy nonetheless <3

Going on a group camping trip had sounded like a pretty good idea at the time — school had just finished for the summer, the days were longer, Lucas and his friends had just finished the two month struggle of cramming for exams.

It had also seemed like a solid plan when Eliott had asked Lucas to share a tent with him. Lucas had agreed unhesitatingly, because he’s gotten so used to suppressing his feelings for Eliott at this point that he hadn’t even batted an eyelid.

Lucas is a warrior of the night, see, a slick ninja dodging his way past stupid heart flutters, a suited spy dunking under blushing cheeks, resisting the temptation to reach out and trace the curved dimples that sometimes peak through Eliott’s skin when he smiles in just the right way. When it comes to suppressing his feelings, Lucas takes no prisoners; Lucas  _ is _ no prisoner. He‘s in complete control of his desires, they are enshrouded by the front he is able to put on — a mask of tight lipped smiles when Eliott gets so close his breathing becomes too irregular to function, or glances cut short when he feels himself gazing dreamily at the curve of Eliott’s lips for a beat too long — it is almost undetectable.

Because Lucas _can’t_. He just can’t go there, in every way possible. Eliott is his friend, they’re mates, pals,  _ buddies _ . Ever since Arthur had shown up to lunch one Wednesday afternoon with a timid smiling Eliott in tow and declared that he would now be sitting with them, Lucas had known instantly that nothing good could come from it. Knew he was well and truly fucked from that moment on. 

Months later, his initial instinct had proved correct, because Eliott only plays on Lucas’ mind more and more each day. It had gone from innocently appreciating the way Eliott’s laugh always started with one distinct snicker followed by an adorable toothy giggle, to musing over the idea of holding his hand, then to waking up hot and startled from vivid dreams of kissing and touching and skin brushing, skin burning. 

Despite Lucas’ adamant act of invisibility, his cloak of protection is slowly losing its power, its competency dwindling down to just a camouflage. Its use now is unreliable,  _ flimsy _ . One wrong step or movement, one snapped branch or rustled hedge could result in him left standing bare, his feelings ripped from his chest and put on display for everyone to see.

It’s a scary thought, because Lucas knows Eliott doesn’t feel the same. He would have done something about it by now if he did. Eliott wears his heart on his sleeve, there’s nothing Lucas can’t detect from Eliott’s mood just by looking into his eyes. Lucas would have noticed if there was something there, a glint or a sparkle or  _ something _ . But they exude nothing of the sort — not for Lucas, anyways.

So. Lucas has no hope, really. 

However, the  _ amazing _ plan soon turns into a terrible, regrettable idea not even twenty minutes after arriving at the campsite.

Lucas is just minding his own business, standing in the open woodland and gazing out over the adjacent lake while his friends assemble their tents behind him. (He needed a quick breather after watching how the defined veins in Eliott’s arms flexed under the strain of securing the tent poles in place, justifiability.)

The sun is beginning to set, igniting an explosion of pinks, oranges and purples across the muted blue of the sky, reflecting a rainbow onto the still lake. It licks Lucas’ skin like warm honey, the fading daytime summer heat intertwining itself with the slight evening breeze and grounding his breathing, calming the unwelcome lustrous thoughts of tan arms and firm hands gripping, assured fingers pressing.

It starts with the impish giggles and loud hushes that approach behind him, and it all happens so quickly that Lucas barely has a second to turn around and stop it. Before he knows it there’s a pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist and another capturing his kicking legs. Lucas tries to struggle from their grasp, even yells out a panicked,  _ put me down _ . But it’s no use. Within the split of a second he’s being flung into the lake.

He screams, splutters,  _ screeches.  _ Cold water devours him, floods in through his nostrils and chokes his insides. His limbs work frantically to try and get his head above water again, then he lets out a sudden gasp when his face hits air again. He emerges to see Yann and Basile hunched over themselves and crying out wicked bursts of laughter.

“You assholes!” Lucas pants, the words are slightly choked up given the gallon of water he has just unwillingly consumed. It only causes them to laugh louder. Lucas scrunches his face in annoyance.

”Sorry bro,” Basile wheezes through laughs, “we just had to, it was the perfect opportunity!”

”Fuck you,” Lucas grumbles stubbornly, eyes flickering over the embankment to try and suss a way out. His teeth are beginning to chatter and his legs are starting to ache a little from staying afloat.

Yann sighs, nudging Basile with his elbow and tilting his head towards the lake. Basile sighs harder, and Lucas is left confused for only a second because soon enough they’re both toeing off their shoes and removing their clothes down to their boxers and diving in next to him. 

Lucas gets another mouthful of lake water when Basile bombs in way too close to him, and he splutters, shoving his shoulders away. 

“Whew!” Yann yells when he breaks the surface, “that’s fucking cold!”

Lucas only rolls his eyes, he knows, he’s been in here for an agonising two minutes now and is beginning to lose the feeling in his toes. He splashes a ripple of water into Yann’s face, because it’s what he deserves. It earns him a splash right back, and soon enough the three of them are heaving out laughters through a tsunami of thrashing arms and surges of water.

Once Lucas feels like he’s gotten sufficient enough revenge — with Basile spluttering surrenders and Yann dunking under to avoid Lucas’ attacks — he smiles smugly to himself and swims towards the edge of the lake. It’s a little difficult considering he’s still fully clothed and the weight of it weighs him down slightly. He manages eventually, hauling himself out of the lake and onto the grass with a huff, then begins to trudge back to the others. His water soaked shoes squelch with every step, he scrunches his nose, attempting to wring out his t-shirt.

“What happened to you?” Imane tries to suppress a giggle when Lucas plops down by the campfire in a sulk.

“You look like a wet dog,” Emma comments.

Lucas grunts. “Yann and Basile pushed me into the lake.” The heat radiating from the small fire is warm against his wet skin, he hovers his hands over it. 

“Well don’t just sit there, you’ll catch a cold!” Manon shakes her head, “Go put some dry clothes on!”

”I don’t have any,” Lucas mumbles, a little embarrassed. 

Because, yes, stupidly he hadn’t brought any other clothes, since they were only staying for one night and he had wanted to pack light. He was planning on just going home in the clothes he came in, because it’s only  _ camping _ , and nobody would care if he looked like a bit of a mess, anyway. Admittedly, not his best idea.

Manon rolls her eyes. ”Come with me, I’ll see what I can find.”

Lucas follows her to the tent she’s sharing with Emma, she throws a pair of pink Disney pyjama bottoms at him. Lucas eyes them with a slight frown, “Really?” he asks. Manon just gives him a pointed look, so he takes it as a cue to just shut up and get on with it. He’ll maybe look like a fool for the rest of the night, but he’ll have to take what he can get, it’s better than freezing to death.

So he thanks Manon and goes to his own tent to change. He’s just glad his past-self had been smart enough to pack a pair of clean boxers and socks, at least, that’s something. 

Eliott is standing outside the tent when Lucas retires from the inside with the pink bottoms on and a blanket wrapped around his torso.

“Cute,” Eliott smirks as his eyes flicker down Lucas’ body. Lucas squirms slightly under his gaze, cheeks staining red.

“They’re Manon’s.”

Eliott raises an eyebrow. “I said cute, didn’t I?” 

Lucas huffs out a laugh, ignoring the butterflies that cause mayhem in his stomach. “I advise you not to go into the lake, it’s fucking freezing.”

”Okay.” Eliott smiles, soft and pretty. “I’ll write that down.”

Eliott is wearing a pair of sweatpants and a cosy looking grey sweater, and he looks so incredibly warm. All Lucas wants to do is crawl into the soft material and make a home for himself there. Wants to bury himself into Eliott’s skin and lie there for an eternity, hide himself away from the stressors of the world and just melt within the comfort of his warmth.

“C’mon,” Eliott says, “everyone’s making s’mores by the fire.”

Lucas follows him gladly, thinks, stupidly, that he’d probably follow Eliott to the ends of the earth, if it came to it.

He plants himself next to Eliott by the campfire, throwing a childish middle finger towards Yann over the flames. Yann flips him one right back. The s’mores are cloying, but delicious, still.

Lucas watches as the campfire between the group crackles embers into the night. The light that’s cast by the flames dances across the solid trunks of the trees, projecting sleek shadows along the faces of his friends. It twists and curls in indistinct shapes as it acts at their only source of light, its rhythm smooth and practiced. It’s mesmerising to watch, how the flickers of orange and red lace around each other, every dip and curve glowing and diffusing a heat that trickles from the surface of their skin down to their bones. It isn’t doing much to ease the chill running up Lucas’ spine, though. The residue bitterness of lake water still clings to his skin. Goosebumps are stubborn little things.

He is also purposely ignoring the press of Eliott’s thigh against his own, how it’s currently the only area of his body that  _ is _ burning.

Instead, he focuses on the indistinct chatter of his friends. He listens as Alexia discusses the dilemma of whether she should dye her hair green or purple next with Imane and Manon, he hears Arthur telling Basile and Daphné about the mouse he had found scrummaging about his attic, smiles at the way Emma and Yann giggle as droplets of s’mores drool down their chins. It works for the most part, he’s even able to provide his input by telling Alexia purple would look so much better. But Eliott is only moving closer, and his presence is becoming so protruding that Lucas’ chest is almost bursting at the seams. 

“You’re still cold,” Eliott whispers into Lucas’ ear, close,  _ distracting. _

Lucas glances sideways, too scared to move his head knowing Eliott’s lips are just  _ right there _ , and he  _ can’t _ . 

“I’m okay,” Lucas says weakly, no force behind his words.

The breath ghosting across Lucas’ ear as Eliott speaks does no favours to the goosebumps attacking his skin. He shuts his eyes to try and steady his breathing. 

Then, slowly, he feels Eliott’s fingers sneak under the blanket draped over his shoulders, his warm hand splaying across the small of Lucas’ back before retreating just as quickly. There’s probably a hand shaped scar imprinted there, now, Lucas thinks, with how harshly the touch had burned.

“You’re freezing.” Lucas opens his eyes to see Eliott watching him with concern lacing his eyes, worry ringing his pupils. 

“I’m fine,” Lucas defends halfheartedly. Eliott is having none of it.

“Here,” he mumbles, pulling at the neck of his sweater, “take my sweater.”

Lucas shakes his head when Eliott holds it out to him. “Eliott, I’m fine, honestly.” 

Eliott rolls his eyes. “You’re so damn stubborn, you know that?” Lucas bites his lip through a smile. “Just take the sweater, I have a top on underneath anyway. You need it more than I do.” 

He gives in with a sigh, accepting the sweater and pulling it over his head. It’s far too big, the sleeves fall way beyond his hands, the bottom pooling at his hips — indicating how it would probably fall down below his thighs if he were to stand up. Lucas tries not to think about it too hard. Eliott chuckles softly when Lucas’ head pops out of the neck, reaching out to smooth down the hair that now sticks up like static.

_ You have no idea what you do to me, do you _ , Lucas thinks, the pang in his chest feeding off Eliott’s every movement, every touch. The touches that come so often but never last long enough to savour, to  _ enjoy _ . Always gone before the ache in Lucas’ heart has the time to drink it up, to memorise it, feel it. 

“Thank you,” Lucas whispers, his voice soft and private. A small smile tugging at his lips — the smile he reserves for Eliott only, the only person sweet enough to deserve a smile so warm.

“S’okay.”

Lucas melts into the soft material, pulling his knees to his chest and covering them with the ends of the sweater like it’s his very own cocoon. He then rests his arms over his knees, tucking his nose into the fold of his elbow. If he breathes in through his nose a bit more than usual, just to catch Eliott’s familiar smell, that’s really nobody’s business but his own.

  
  
  


The night progresses languidly. More beers are cracked open, conversations become a little ridiculous, Lucas feels warmer now with Eliott’s sweater drowning him and Eliott radiating a pulsating heat next to him — a heat not even the burning embers of the actual fire can compare to. 

“How are you feeling now?” Eliott asks him between a gap in their conversation.

“Better,” Lucas smiles, “still waiting on that cold to hit.” 

Eliott groans. “Please don’t get a cold. Every time  _ you _ get a cold,  _ I _ get a cold.” 

It’s funny only because it’s true, a worrying indication of how much time they spend together, perhaps. Albeit time not spent in the way Lucas wants it to be spent.

“We can’t have that, can we?” Lucas whispers with a grin. Eliott shakes his head, then wraps an arm around Lucas’ shoulders to pull him in. 

The movement isn’t unexpected, Eliott is an affectionate person, always hugging and touching and  _ there _ . It’s all out of friendship, though, it’s just the way he is and that’s fine. Totally fine. Lucas leans into the embrace, nonetheless, wrapping an arm around Eliott’s waist, and the fact that nobody spares them even a second glance — that Eliott cuddling him has become so accustomed by now — should say something, it should.

(Because to Lucas Eliott is like that with everyone, but to Eliott it’s only for Lucas.)

Eliott slips a hand under the fabric of the sweater, resting it along Lucas’ hip and it  _ burns _ . The first brush of Eliott’s finger against his skin follows shortly after, he feels Eliott trace a line down the short length of his hip, it transforms into zigzagged lines and swirls soon enough. Just delicately ghosting.

Lucas tucks himself further into Eliott’s side, the motions lulling him into lethargy, his eyes feeling heavier with every blink. He creeps his own hand under Eliott’s t-shirt, writing the unexplained confidence off as exhaustion and the small amount of alcohol that has settled itself neatly into his system.

He begins to mimic Eliott’s movements. At first it’s just a little ridiculous thing; how Eliott traces a circle, and then Lucas traces one right back. How Eliott draws a cross, and then Lucas draws a cross. Then Eliott creates a soft spiral, Lucas follows the lines, imagining them in his head and imprinting them back onto Eliott’s skin. It all feels strangely intimate, unspoken words fading into skin and burning, finding a match and setting themselves alight. 

It goes like that for a while, them tracing incoherent patterns onto each other’s skin, until Eliott taps on Lucas’ hip twice, two solid motions.  _ One, two. Mimic this, _ he says. Lucas squeezes Eliott’s hip back in response,  _ okay _ .

Eliott starts by trailing one long line down, then there’s a pause. Lucas follows. Eliott’s finger is slightly apprehensive but it moves with purpose, still. He then traces a line down and across, a circle, then moves in an up down motion, another horizontal line that curves over and out. A pause. Lucas copies each one with curiosity, trying to distinguish the patterns in his head. Eliott then ghosts an upwards loop with a flick onto Lucas’ skin, followed by another circle, then a loop, and, and — Lucas’ breath hitches, his own hand freezing. 

_ I love you. _

Lucas’ gaze snaps up to meet Eliott’s, who looks down at him with wide eyes, expectant and a bit terrified. The warm hue of the campfire makes his eyes look a lot more blue than usual. Lucas feels like he can’t  _ breathe _ . Helplessly, he looks over to his friends, but they all seem to be far too consumed within their own conversations to even notice that Lucas’ entire world has just been completely tipped over on its axis. 

He blinks back up to Eliott, his mouth gaping for words.  _ This can’t be _ , Lucas thinks,  _ it can’t. He has to be joking, Eliott can’t— _

”Say something,” Eliott whispers, words so indistinct he basically mouths the words.

And the way Eliott is looking at him, so open and nervous, his hands shaking like leaves by Lucas’ side, is like a tidal wave gushing from its seams and cascading right into Lucas’ lungs with so much force it leaves him breathless.  _ Completely speechless _ . Lucas’ heart is thumping like nothing he’s ever felt before, deep and heavy pulse straining against his veins. Eliott’s isn’t much better, Lucas can feel the rhythm of Eliott’s heart beating in sync with his own. Their pulses match a melody so foreign and new and terrifyingly exhilarating. 

“Me too,” Lucas whispers back, the only words he’s able to formulate at that moment in time. He hopes his eyes can convey more of what he’s thinking, can show Eliott how much he deeply means it.

_ I love you too, _ they scream out,  _ I’m so in love with you. _

He hopes,  _ prays _ , that it is enough.

Eliott must understand, because he smiles, then, bright and pretty. And Lucas wants to kiss him so desperately it aches.

”I really want to kiss you right now,” Eliott reads his mind, he mouths the words again, private just for Lucas to hear.

Lucas presses a smile into his shoulder, can’t quite believe that this is happening, really — the fact that Eliott is  _ here,  _ writing things like,  _ I love you,  _ and saying things like,  _ I really want to kiss you right now _ , and looking at Lucas like he’s his entire world.

Lucas is still acutely aware of the gathering happening around them, and something like this — so intimate and long awaited — has to be just for them. Be it selfish, or whatever, Lucas doesn’t care. It’s  _ their _ moment,  _ only theirs _ .

“Not here,” Lucas responds just as inaudibly. He scans the group, tries to think of a plan. He doesn’t have to. Suddenly Alexia is yawning, and she says, ”I think I’m gonna turn in guys.” 

“Same,” Manon begins to stand, Imane, too.

Lucas turns to Eliott and raises a brow, before jumping on the opportunity maybe a fraction too quickly to be considered natural — because he’s a master of subtlety, clearly.

”Yeah, me too,” he gushes. 

Basile huffs. “You guys are so boring it’s not even that late!”

Lucas ignores his protests, standing up and brushing the dirt from his pyjama bottoms. He steals a quick glance at Eliott as he moves towards the tent, which is a safe enough distance away to be deemed private. Eliott watches after him, his lips parted and his eyes hungry, devouring,  _ ruinous _ .

Once Lucas is inside the tent, it’s not long before Eliott is crawling in after him. 

“Hi,” Eliott giggles when he’s zipped up the text, sitting crossed-legged opposite Lucas. 

“Hi,” Lucas whispers back, an aching grin pulling at corners of his lips.

Eliott’s eyes flicker around the tent a little nervously, Lucas watches, wants to reach out and iron out the crease between his brows, steady his shaking hands. And he almost stops himself, almost locks his arms in place, but he doesn’t have to now.  _ It’s different now _ , he  _ can _ reach out.

So he does.

He places his hands over Eliott’s, which are resting on his knees. Eliott turns his palms upwards, capturing Lucas’ hands and linking them together. It sparks bursts of electricity up through Lucas’ arms.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” Eliott whispers, “if that’s okay.” 

Lucas nods, his breath getting caught in his throat. 

_Please,_ his mind screams _, it’s so okay, more than okay, please kiss me._

When their lips meet, Lucas’ cloak of disguise falls away completely, all signs of fear and apprehension fading away with it. Lucas lets it, lets himself get dragged under the waves with Eliott, the deep sea saturating their bodies until all they can recognise is each other. Instead of Lucas’ previous front, now wrapped around him is Eliott; Eliott’s firm arms and soft lips and sweet smell. 

_ Eliott, Eliott, Eliott.  _

It’s all Lucas can see, feel and breathe. It’s everything all at once and all he’s ever wanted. It’s warm and gentle, their lips moving clumsily until they find the perfect rhythm, sliding together with lazy drags and pulls of tongues.

It’s perfect.

”I love you too,” Lucas gasps when they separate, his lungs robbed of all air. “I love you too,” he repeats again, this time softer as he rests his forehead against Eliott’s.

Eliott smiles brightly, and Lucas sees it; the glint in his eyes, that tiny sparkle of hope and a promise of reciprocal desire. 

It’s blinding, beautiful,  _ breathtaking.  _ It’s all for him.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading!!! i hope you enjoyed, let me know what u thought, kudos are rlly appreciated, if u feel like it :) 
> 
> come find me on tumblr - [@lumierelovers](https://lumierelovers.tumblr.com/)


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